


Skin Wars

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist!Dean, Baby, Cas protecting Dean from himself, Gen, M/M, Model!Cas, Skin Wars AU, TV host!Anna, art critic!Crowley, artist!Balthazar, body painting, dean is his own worst critic, graffiti artist!charlie, introvert!dean, shy!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?





	Skin Wars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the make up week of Destiel bingo. The prompt I missed was Overprotective Cas. I also decided to submit this for my first one word bingo submission. My one word prompt was critic. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it!

A very special thank you to [cutelittlekitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/pseuds/cutelittlekitty) and [tennyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo) for being my beta’s on this. I appreciate you to the moon and back.

 

 

“Good morning, painters!” Anna’s voice is bright and cheerful as she greets the six remaining competitors. It’s still intimidating to be in the presence of these amazing artists, and Dean shuffles nervously on his feet every time he sees Queen Red or Crowley in the studio. He avoids looking at the camera whenever he can, but he feels his skin flush when eye contact is necessary. There is a chorus of excited “good mornings” before the artists are quiet again, waiting for Anna to speak.

“Well, I hope you guys are excited for today’s challenge, because it is gonna be a big one.” Anna smiles at the group and gestures toward the judges with one hand. “You all remember our resident judges, world renowned art critic Fergus Crowley, best known for his contributions to Artforum.” Dean claps along with everyone else. “Famous for her feminist and lgbt positive street murals and graffiti art, Queen Red. And of course, Balthazar Adler, eminent pop surrealist featured in art museums around the world.”

Each of the judges greets the group in turn, and Dean is already itching to get to the challenge. He doesn’t really care for all the bits and pieces between challenges. He just wants a brush in his hand and his model under his fingers. He fidgets restlessly when Balthazar speaks.

“For your challenge today, we want you to create something personal. Your paintings should be inspired by something that reminds you of home.” The other artists around Dean make excited noises, but he just sighs. Home. He hadn’t really had somewhere to call home since his mom died when he was young. “You’ll have four hours to create a head-to-toe, front of the body representation of what home means to you.”

“Now,” Queen Red takes over, “we have a surprise for you. All season, you’ve been working with models of the female persuasion, but today… you’ll be doing your painting on male models.” Dean perks up at this announcement, as do many of his competitors. Painting on the flatter, less curvy figure of a man eliminates some of the issues that he’s experienced with a female canvas.

“Painters, your time starts… Now!” Anna exclaims. Dean and the rest of the artists move quickly, ideas already formulating in their minds. He stands in front of a shelf full of colors, trying to figure out what he is going to do. After a few minutes, he walks to his station with several paint cakes in his hands. He organizes the small containers on the table, trying to portray a confidence he doesn’t feel as he sits down to sketch an idea that is just starting to come together.

By the time the models come into the studio, Dean has a rough plan for his painting. He will figure the details out as he gets closer to finishing. He isn’t paying much attention when his model approaches, still adding to his sketch of the Impala.

“Hello, Dean,” a familiar voice says from behind him. Dean turns quickly, startled by the easily recognized gravel of his friend’s speech.

“Cas? What are you doing here?” He hugs the man, who is standing behind him in a black robe.

“I am your model.” Cas smiles as he steps back from the hug to let the dark material covering him fall to the floor. Dean has never seen so much of his skin. His eyes roam across his canvas, admiring the toned muscle of Cas’s legs and torso, and pretending to himself that he needs to examine the man’s body so closely because he is about to paint on it. “Are you ready to start?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so. Gotta figure out how I want to pose you,” Dean replies with a smile. He doesn’t tell Cas how nervous he is about this painting. He wants to spend time catching up with Cas, because it's been years since they last saw each other, but the four hour time constraint doesn’t give him much room for chit-chat. Everything is going to have to be about the painting and the execution of his design.

They experiment with a few different poses before settling on one where Cas’s arms would cross his chest. They are mostly silent as Dean starts laying down the base coats and outlining the major elements of his piece. He tries to control his nerves, hoping that Cas won’t pick up on how he’s feeling.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas is speaking softly, either trying to keep his movements to a minimum or make sure no one else can hear him. “I know with your background, this is probably a difficult challenge for you.”

“Yeah, I’m alright, I guess.” Dean swipes the brush across Cas’s chest, lighter blue highlighting the deep blue he’d laid down for the night sky. “Just don’t really have much that reminds me of home, ya know?” 

“I understand.” Cas doesn’t elaborate or try to comfort Dean, he just stands quietly as Dean continues his brush strokes. Almost two hours have passed, and Dean has most of Cas’s body covered when Balthazar and Queen Red start walking around the studio, asking each artist questions. Cas needs a break and Dean takes the opportunity to look around at what his competitors are doing. His heart sinks as he sees portrayals of real homes and family lives, all the things he doesn’t have in his painting. He looks back at what he’s done so far, and if it had been on paper, he’d have torn it up and never allowed anyone to see it. He steels himself when he sees the judges approaching him.

“How’s it goin’, Dean?” Queen Red asks with a smile. Dean is as nervous talking to her now as he’s ever been, moreso because he is so uncertain about his piece. He smiles at her anyway.

“It's... uh, it's going.” He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the camera behind her, and decides to be honest. “I’m actually really nervous about this one. Looking around, I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to compete. My dad was a travelling salesman, and after mom died, we were constantly on the road.”

“So you don’t really have the same concept of home as most of the competition,” Queen Red’s voice is understanding, and she reaches out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder in comfort. 

“You’ve got a lot of really dark colors in here, Dean.” Balthazar gestures toward the area in the center of Cas’s chest, where the unfinished Impala rests. “How are you planning on making this pop?”

“Well, I still have a lot of details to add, and there will be some of the brighter colors incorporated in the background of the design. As far as the car itself, I’ll be breaking out the airbrush and using that for some highlighting.”

“Make the most of the time you have left. Make sure your story really comes through, okay?” Queen Red encourages before she and Balthazar move off. 

Dean sighs and turns back to Cas. “You ready to get back to it?”

“Of course.” Cas stands silently for a few moments as Dean starts adding more detail to the painting. “You are your own worst critic, Dean.”

“If you say so,” Dean mutters, trying to focus on his painting instead of Cas’s words. He is very critical of his own work, but he knows everything he tells himself is true. Not to mention that he feels his painting is a child’s scribble compared to the work of the extremely accomplished, professional artists that are judging the competition. 

“Dean, stop and look at me.” Dean looks up at Cas, a little startled by how firm his voice is. “You are an incredibly talented artist, and the fact that your background is so different from everyone else’s only gives it that much more meaning. Get your head out of your ass and stop doubting yourself.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, feeling the warmth of an embarrassed blush spread across his skin. He goes back to painting as he mulls over Cas’s words. He’s right, Dean knows, but it's hard to put aside his self-doubt.

“Hey, Cas?” He doesn’t look at the model as he speaks, instead loading the airbrush to avoid eye contact.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’s soft, deep voice carries concern and caring.

“Thanks. I get too in my head sometimes.”

“I know. Someone has to protect you from yourself.”

Dean chuckles and they spend the rest of the final hour mostly in companionable silence, only interrupted by instructions from Dean.

“Okay, painters, time is up! Brushes down!” Anna exclaims. Dean had been so consumed by his work that he hadn’t realized she came in. He lifts his hands above his head, breathing deeply as his eyes roam his painting one last time before presentation. As nervous as he’d been, he’s pleased with his work now. It brings back the happier memories of his childhood. He’s done his best work, and he can only hope now that the judges see it that way. “The judges are ready to see what you’ve done, so everyone follow me to the stage!”

Cas smiles at Dean one last time before streaming out of the room with the other models, and Dean follows shortly thereafter, lining up with the other artists on one side of the stage to watch the show.

The music starts and one by one the models walk the runway. Dean examines each painting, and they are mostly well done, but as he waits for Cas to come out he grows more confident about his own design. The other artists had painted beautifully, but their pieces seem hollow. When Cas comes out, his arms are crossed, the red and white swirls covering the main image on his chest, Dean’s heart skips a beat. He’s perfect, almost unconsciously portraying exactly the feeling Dean wanted to come across. He poses at the end of the runway, opening his arms to show the Impala on the open road. Dean feels so lucky to have Cas as his model, and his friend.

“Fantastic job, painters!” Anna’s cheerful voice cuts through the room, grabbing everyone’s attention. “You’ve given the judges a lot to discuss. Please return to the lounge.” 

Dean and the other contestants leave the stage, and when he reaches the painter’s lounge, the first thing he does is grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and down it. Everyone is discussing their paintings, and the inspiration they had, but Dean doesn’t feel like sharing. He waits for the return to the stage quietly, sitting away from everyone else. Anna comes in and invites the painters back out to face the judges and as Dean lines up, he is confident. He may not win today, but he won’t be going home either.

“If I call your name, please step forward.” Anna pauses, meeting each artist’s eyes. “Meg.” The small curly haired woman steps forward with a smile. “Dean.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding as he joins Meg. “Kevin.” The nervous looking Asian kid bounds forward, barely containing his excitement. “Congratulations, you are the top three painters for this challenge.” 

After a moment’s pause, Crowley is the first to speak. “Kevin, your painting really showed how your mother’s life has affected you as a person, and we were quite impressed by your color palette. Well done, darling.” Kevin smiles, his hands together almost as if in prayer as he thanks the judge.

“Meg,” Balthazar begins, “I was blown away by your painting. It was absolutely a technical masterpiece. Very impressive.” She bobs with excitement at the praise, thanking Balthazar profusely and wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes.

“Dean, you were really nervous about this,” Queen Red says. Dean’s heart pounds in his chest as he nods in response. “I understand what it's like not to have that postcard, white picket fence childhood and your painting is so different from everyone else’s because of that. What really sets it apart is the emotional journey that it takes us on. It's really brilliant.” Dean can’t really speak so he just nods and mouths a thank you to her.

“All of you have done some outstanding work today, but there can only be one winner. The name of tonight’s winner is…” Anna pauses, dragging out the moment for suspense, and everyone looks back to the entrance onto the runway, waiting to see whose painting walks out. Deans heart pounds in his chest as one second passes, then another, and another. He’s holding his breath. It seems like forever before he finally sees someone approaching in the shadows of the entrance. 

It’s Cas walking through the door, holding up his arms across his chest again, before posing in front of the panel once more. Dean can’t breathe through the emotion tightening around his heart. He tries to hold back the tears, but they stream down his face anyway. He’s proud that something so personal to him has won a challenge. And when Cas parts the tacky wallpaper pattern on his arms to reveal the Impala rolling down the open road under the starry night sky, Dean takes a deep breath, finally seeing his painting through the eyes of someone else. His gaze is drawn to the green army man stuffed into an ashtray, and then to his brother’s initials next to his. 

Dean is crying in earnest now, and he runs across the stage, throwing his arms around Cas and pulling him into a tight hug.

“I told you you’re amazing,” is all Cas says. Dean breaks away and looks at him with a tremulous smile.

“Yeah, I guess I should listen to you more often.”


End file.
